


A Strange Alpha

by MAPMonstersArePerceptions



Series: Indentured Servitude Omakes [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 01:04:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19307506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MAPMonstersArePerceptions/pseuds/MAPMonstersArePerceptions
Summary: Based on ch. 2 of Indentured Servitude by DancingdogAlarmed, he and Helen whipped their heads around to find Gordon scowling down at an angelic child, no older than ten, who was crying his little lungs out as he clutched at a slightly crooked snowy wing speckled with tiny black spots. His face was red and tears streamed down his cheeks and above his head, his halo glowed an intense purple, shining brighter and brighter with every sob.





	A Strange Alpha

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dancingdog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancingdog/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Indentured Servitude](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19152943) by [Dancingdog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancingdog/pseuds/Dancingdog). 



> For Dancingdog, thank you so much for taking the barest wisps of a concept and turning it into a masterpiece. I hope you enjoy this omake of your latest work. 
> 
> This might not make much sense if you haven't read the chapter this is based on.

From Indentured Servitude:  
_Alarmed, he and Helen whipped their heads around to find Gordon scowling down at an angelic child, no older than ten, who was crying his little lungs out as he clutched at a slightly crooked snowy wing speckled with tiny black spots. His face was red and tears streamed down his cheeks and above his head, his halo glowed an intense purple, shining brighter and brighter with every sob._

 _Crack!_ Stabbing pain raced through my wing, and my eyes finally spied too-familiar boots. Browns and reds were caked on the bottom; it was impossible to know what was mud and what was blood. Arms wrapped around me, restraining me. The boots went away, but the too-strong arms restraining me would not let go. The smell of angry alpha seared my nose. I needed my Papa. What was _he_ doing to Papa? I could feel rhythmic thumping; it would be calming if every vibration didn’t mean more injuries on my papa. My body is weakening from the struggle to get away. Something leather-y and soft wraps around me. It almost feels like wings. A voice is speaking Enochian. The words are nice. I look up to see a human woman. The 'wings' are a blanket. Her hand is thump-thump-thumping against my back. It would almost calm me, but her fingers are on my wings, and her thoughts aren’t as nice as her words. She’s thinking about my Papa and how much he deserves to be locked away. Now I remember where I am. We aren’t with the Alpha anymore, but _she_ took Papa away. My eyes tear up, and only a little of it is because of the sting in my wing. My heart hurt as much as the wing.

A voice above me snarls in anger, and the reek of angry Alpha is back. I curl into myself even as I wish the woman would stop, Stop, STOP touching my wings. A hand reaches into my hair, and I lash out before the grip can tighten. I scratch the offending hand, and my wings beat against the woman. I need to get out of here. I need my papa. Why won’t anyone let me see my papa? Finally, I get away from the woman, but that victory is shallow. I curl up and hold my injured wing in the only protection I can provide myself wondering… who will punish me first? 

The alpha smell gets stronger. Oh no, did I attack an Alpha? My stomach roils as I fight the sobs leaving my body. They only make things worse. I’m picked up again only it isn’t the woman holding me. It’s an alpha human, and his hand bares the marks of my fingernails. I desperately try to get away, but his grip only tightens. Strangely, he doesn’t smell angry, and he doesn’t try to talk to me in a human tongue. “G geh blans” greets my ears, and I have to get a better look. Figure out his game. Alpha tried to pretend to be nice at times, but his eyes always told the truth. This human’s eyes are shadowed as though he has experienced pain, but they aren’t hard. I still don’t trust him though. A finger brushes softly against my bare arm. I get a picture of a small human boy against the world. It confuses me, but his emotions towards the little boy ( _do I remind him of that boy?_ ) are warm. 

I am surprised when he insists on trying to fix my wing, more so when he doesn’t take pleasure in the pain I’m unable to hide. When I hear Papa’s name and see the two go towards the basement, I follow - cautious of the new man, but pleased when he defends my right to see Papa. Then he gets the woman to open the door, and I’m in Papa’s grasp. His wings wrap around me, and I never want this moment to end. Papa!

\--------

My fledgling. My fledgling! Samandriel how I’ve yearned to see you. Your young arms wrapped around me bring with them a measure of peace. You’ve gained weight in this new place. How have they treated you? Don’t cry, Little One. Don’t cry. Papa’s got you. In the shadow of my wings, know that I will do everything in my power to protect you. Papa’s here. 

My fingers brush against a bandage wrapped on your wing. What happened, Little One? You tell me of the strange alpha you met. He spoke Enochian and bound your wing after it was hurt (by him?). Your gift allows you an insight into the man’s mind, but his feelings and thoughts are unfamiliar to you. You’ve no memory of a genuinely gentle touch from an alpha and don’t trust it. Nonetheless, you’re happy that he helped you find me. I’m thankful for that as well and am curious about this alpha. He appears to be a police officer if his uniform is any indication. Frowning, I turn my gaze back to my son. I’ve no way of knowing how long this reprieve will be permitted, and I know to take advantage of whatever time I have with my Little One. Helen has made it no secret that my days are numbered in this facility. Sighing, I think back on a song my mother sang to me grateful that I can communicate with Samandriel at least. The song soothes both of us, and it is almost possible to forget the others in the room. When the police officer proclaims a wish to ‘mentor’ us, I can only cling to Samandriel helplessly and wonder how much this will cost me. I am happy that a chance has presented itself that won’t force me to be separated from my fledgling. I am terrified of what we’ll have to face next. Will my son lose the little weight he’s gained? What will be expected of us? Before I know it, I have been returned to my cell, Samandriel’s anguished cries at our separation ringing in my ears. _Papa loves you and will protect you, Little One!_ I think as hard as I can, knowing that without touch, my thoughts are mine, alone.

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't already begun reading Indentured Servitude, it's amazing and completely deserves some attention.


End file.
